


Empty Spaces

by malloryeatsthekeys



Category: Warrior Nun
Genre: Ava POV, Beatrice POV, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Soft Beans, alternating pov, let bea say fuck, post S1, probably some swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malloryeatsthekeys/pseuds/malloryeatsthekeys
Summary: Ava’s used to quiet. Beatrice is used to chaos. It works for them.or,on the run after Adriel’s Tomb, Ava, Beatrice, and the Sister Warriors bounce from empty mansion to empty mansion, Ava and Bea try and fail to hide their feelings for each other
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 100
Kudos: 460





	1. Sterile Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orphanages are quiet.

Orphanages were quiet. Well, Ava’s was, at least. It’s not like she’d had the opportunity to visit many others. And to be fair, hers was run by murderous nuns (the bad kind).

But hers was always quiet: if you got to watch TV, it was on low, if you got to play in your room, the door was closed and you were whispering.

If you were Ava, you ignored the rules and befriended your roommate and laughed as loudly and as raucously as possible with him. You made jokes and raised your voice when you were happy— or pretending to be— and figured out what made Diego laugh uproariously then did it as often as possible.

If you were Ava, you tried to fill the silent space with anything, everything you could. You see the empty spaces and use everything you are to fill it up; you hope what you are is enough; you hope you are so loud they forget you aren’t.

When she first arrived, Ava latched onto Beatrice because her quiet was familiar. The Cat’s Cradle, though it had its moments of holy, hallowed silence, tended to be rather loud. Between the yells and grunts of sparring nuns and the clanking of their weapons hitting against each other, it was frequently several decibels higher than anything Ava was used to. And even when the OCS grounds were quiet, the Sisters weren’t. Yes, they were disciplined, regimented, spoke in hushed tones during training, but they pulled no punches, literally or figuratively. They weren’t shy with their thoughts and opinions, about her or most anything else. She was used to Sister Frances’s barbs, but they were always hidden in her insidious sweetness, her habit of pretending to care even though it was abundantly clear she didn’t.

But Beatrice? Beatrice was calm. She was quiet. She was a nun. It felt familiar enough to what Ava knew to provide some comfort, at first. But then it’s just Beatrice.

Ava has always existed in a vacuum, the orphanage working to suck every ounce of life and joy and laughter from its barren halls, and she’s used her voice to fight against it. She would speak up and try to make herself so large she expands into the tinniest nooks and crannies and distract from the pull of its emptiness, the emptiness that haunts her.

Beatrice cast the emptiness away without saying a word. When she walked into a room, she was there. Her presence was powerful, heavy, and yet she was rarely loud. She could make Ava feel so warm, so safe, without breaking her steady, stable calm. It pulled her in, all the familiarity of the orphanage’s quiet but yet all the warmth and safety of Beatrice. It took Ava so long to realize how she did it, hours of working with her and fighting beside her and watching her whenever she could.

Beatrice used her voice with purpose, and kept her silence with intent. She was so controlled with her words, conscious of her impact on the people around her, and used them with such care. She knew just what to say to Camila to make her smile when she’s down, how to push Lilith just far enough to challenge her perspective without causing an outburst, how to cut through Mary’s passion and refocus her on the mission. How to comfort Ava in her all too common moments of weakness. How to give her the strength to keep going. How to make her feel brave. How to make her laugh, and smile. How to settle her nerves, and how to make her heart beat so fast she couldn’t hear anything but her own heartbeat.

Ava had never seen anything so breathtaking as Beatrice, in all her strength.

And it is fucking distracting. 


	2. Beating Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice’s heart is loud.

Sister Beatrice is quiet. She is now, anyways. She wasn’t, once upon a time, before she was a Sister, when she was just Beatrice, in a house overrun by diplomatic aides and assistants and ambassadors and politicians.

But dinner was always quiet. Her parents, properly traditional and traditionally proper, served a nice Sunday dinner in their formal dining room every week. Beatrice was to show up in her Sunday best, say amen after the prayer, and behave like a respectable young woman. To her parents, that meant she was quiet.

In a house brimming with workers, the sounds of their frantic calls and heated war rooms overflowing and filling the halls and stairs and reaching all the way into her childhood bedroom, it was easy to be quiet. She had been loud at first, but when you scream into a crowd, no one even realizes you’ve screamed. Instead, she learns to turn inward: she stops searching for connection and communication in the noise around her, and begins to listen to herself. That’s when she realizes what her heart is saying.

In a house like hers, run by devoted bureaucrats entrenched in Catholicism, her heart must stay quiet. She learns to be grateful for the commotion around her, learns to drown herself out with endless hard work. But it’s not enough. She can scream into her parents’ chaos and be ignored, but as soon as her heart dares to whisper, it’s over. She’s sent out of her loud house and into Catholic school. It was easier to be quiet there, away from the noise of home and in the hands of God.

Ava is loud. She is reckless and scared and charming and brash and so so loud. At first, being around her feels like being back in the chaos: Ava bounces from place to place, emotions rocketing up and down and around, she breaks tense silences with stupid jokes so carelessly and irreverently. But Beatrice is not overwhelmed by her in the way she is overwhelmed by her childhood home.

It’s curious. She finds herself enchanted by Ava’s chaos, easily swayed by her smile, and fond of the sound of her voice, always louder than anyone else’s, filling a room. It’s not like her to enjoy blatant disregard for etiquette and manners, but as she watches Ava in delight, she realizes what makes Ava so different than the brazen government suits who used her home as an office.

Ava’s chaos is careful. Not always, not when she’s scared, or angry. But her inappropriate quips in the middle of important conversations are intentional. Her ridiculous jokes broke tension. At the exact right (well, at least approximately right) moment, she’d say something to the person or people faltering that would make them forget for just a minute the danger they were almost always in. It was disarming, too— people underestimated Ava. Even her bumbling, scared self was somewhat controlled these days. And though she tended to be selfish when scared, Beatrice saw the efforts she was making during and now, after the Battle of Adriel’s Tomb, to lean into her fears and trust the people around her.

And Beatrice learned Ava was fiercely loyal. She should have noticed it earlier, perhaps, but she had kept her distance after Ava’s first escape attempt. She noticed that Mary and Ava were on better terms when they returned, and saw her befriend Camilla and noticed the kindness she immediately showed towards Bea upon reuniting at Artech, the same kindness she showed her when they first met, despite all the time between them and her Sister Lilith’s attempts to murder Ava. She’d not known much about the friends Ava had been traveling with, but Mary’s accounts were suggestive of Ava’s dedication to the boy she traveled with, and were well— _suggestive_. And when Ava told her just days ago about the nun she killed to save her friend, she wasn’t at all surprised. The Ava she knows now is so good, inside the chaos. Of course she rescued Diego, of course she returned to JC when she didn’t yet trust the OCS. She is loyal.

She doesn’t much like to think about the boy, JC, that Ava was so fond of. Or had been, Beatrice hoped a little selfishly. She wanted to believe Ava was loyal to them, their team, above all else. That they were more important than a fleeting relationship based in lust. Ava had grown so much since becoming Halo Bearer, had become brave and determined, less and less selfish each day. She hoped the Ava she knew now— the Ava she’s found herself so drawn to— would be less charmed by his jawline and luxurious criminal lifestyle. See that her relationships with _them_ , her sisters and family in this life or next, were so much deeper. She believes it’s true, but sometimes, when she thinks about JC— though she tries not to— she feels a flicker of uncertainty and a pang in her heart. She pushes it down, but her heart is loud.

And lately it’s been so focused on Ava. Protecting her, and finding a way to defeat Adriel so that she can be safe. Figuring out how to make sure she is the last Warrior Nun, so Ava can grow old with them. With her.

Her heart is so, so loud.


	3. Close Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life on the run proves to be rather, uh... thought-provoking.

Life on the run was difficult for many reasons.

For one, it was hard to fight demons while keeping all Divinium at a distance. Ever since Adriel revealed his connection to it, they had been incredibly wary of keeping it around. There was no way to know how much of his information had come from Father Vincent and how much had come from the Divinium, but Beatrice saw the look on Ava’s face when she described how easily Adriel had gotten into her head, and ever since, she had insisted on strict protocols to keep it as contained as possible, while still having it close enough to use if they needed to fight.

Second, staying in contact with Jillian posed a challenge. She’d been distraught ever since Michael disappeared, not to mention the security threat her work posed. As long as she continued to work with Divinium— which they desperately needed her to do, if they wanted a chance at taking Adriel down— they couldn’t be certain any information passed between them didn’t make it to Adriel’s ears.

Third, Duretti wasn’t happy with them and Vincent was MIA, so their access to Church resources had been significantly diminished. They couldn’t use any OCS safe houses because Vincent knew them, and Duretti wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to build or buy more for them to use. And they couldn’t exactly go back to the Cat’s Cradle without endangering the other Sister Warriors. Which led them to their current strategy: taking a page out of Ava’s criminal friends’ book and bouncing from one abandoned rich person’s house to the next.

And Beatrice hates it. She hates that Ava and Camila coo over the new clothes in each closet, hates how easily Mary embraces luxury, hates how comfortable Lilith is, pointing out the prestigious artists hanging on the walls and making passively judgmental comments about the homeowners’ tastes to Beatrice as if Beatrice hadn’t become a nun to leave behind the silver spoon lifestyle they were both raised in.

More than anything, she hates Ava’s stories. Each new house brought a new JC-and-the-gang story. She swears they’re endless— Ava never seems to run out. Weren’t they only _together_ for a month, at most? How did she have so many? Beatrice thinks idly to herself, distractedly watching Mary and Lilith spar in the oversized, overly ornate living room from the couch with Ava.

“Liiiliiiiiiith!” Camila calls from upstairs.

“What?” Lilith shouts, barely breaking her rhythm.

“I can’t get the shower to work! Come help!”

“Can’t! Ask Beatrice,” she grunts. Mary takes advantage of her brief distraction and lands a punch to her shoulder, and she stumbles back. “Shit!”

“Language,” Beatrice says automatically.

“We’re not even in a church, Bea! Relax a little,” Ava winks at her good-naturedly and gently bumps her shoulder into Beatrice’s, moving herself a little closer to Beatrice in the process.

“Hmm,” Beatrice hums lightly. “Perhaps if you weren’t such a bad influence, I could relax. But until then...,” She lets her voice trail off, leaving the implication hanging, hoping Ava will take the bait.

“Hey! Me? A bad influence? Never!” Beatrice feels her heart flutter as she smiles at Ava. She opens her mouth to respond but before she can, Camila yells down urgently.

“Beatrice! Please come help me! I can’t figure it out.”

Beatrice feels her weightless heart sink. She lets out a small sigh, trying not to let her disappointment show.

“Be right up, Camila,” she calls out. She shoots Ava a conciliatory look and begins to stand up. Before she can, Ava puts a hand on her knee and stops her. She lifts herself off the couch dramatically, taking a subtly heroic stance.

“I’ll go. I’m the Warrior Nun, after all.”

Beatrice snorts before she can help herself. Ava whips her head around in shock, faux betrayal covering her clear delight. Beatrice feels her face heat up. “Oops.”

“So rude, Beatrice. I like it,” Ava’s impressed grin only makes Beatrice’s face hotter and her heart faster. _Goddammit._

“Language!” Ava gasps. Oh, no. Did she say that out loud?

“I told you, you’re a bad influence,” Beatrice tries, trying to look as disdainful and aloof as possible.

“Ha!” Lilith shouts triumphantly, standing over Mary. Beatrice and Ava turn their attention to them as Mary takes Lilith’s outstretched hand and pulls herself up.

“Yeah, yeah. You got demon powers and I’m down two shot guns. You know I’d kick your ass in the field,” Mary brushes herself off.

“Sure,” Lilith says smugly. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“You’re on, Princess Hellfire.” Lilith makes a face at her but still smiles at Mary drapes herself over the nearest chair.

“Ew, don’t get your sweat all over that. That armchair is worth like twenty grand,” Lilith admonishes. “Go shower.”

“I can’t,” Mary props her legs up on the coffee table defiantly. “Camila’s in the shower.”

Ava’s eyes widen. “We forgot about Camila...”

At that moment, a very small, very annoyed, and very naked nun comes stomping down the stairs in a towel.

“Guys! I need help!”

The Sister Warriors chorus out sorries, Ava and Mary biting back laughter.

“I was just about to come up, Camila. Got a bit distracted. Sorry,” Ava offers. Camila’s face lights back up instantly, all annoyance forgotten.

“Thanks,” she says gratefully.

“How do you know how to operate that thing?” Mary asks.

“There was one just like it in the first house I stayed in with JC and his friends. He showed me how to use it,” Ava explains.

Beatrice feels her chest tighten as Camila and Mary let out playful (in Camila’s case) and suggestive (in Mary’s case) ooos.

“Oh hush! It wasn’t like that... mostly,” Ava says coyly as she walks towards Camila. “C’mon, Cammie, let’s go sort out a shower!”

Beatrice watches Ava lead Camila back upstairs, eyes following her until she’s disappeared. Once she’s fully gone and up the staircase, Beatrice collapses back into the couch and groans, covering her face with her hands.

She stays there for a moment, quietly contemplating this personal hell she’s found herself in, before she realizes it’s just a little too quiet. She peaks out through her hands to see Mary and Lilith’s amused, interested gazes burning into her. She covers her eyes once more.

“ _Goddammit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bea will drop at least one f-bomb by the end of this fic #letbeasayfuck
> 
> send me prompts on tumblr malloryeatsthekeys.tumblr.com


	4. Shower Rescues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava misses Diego, but she’s grateful for Camila, too.

Ava bounds up the stairs, pulling a laughing Camila behind her.

“Ava! Careful!” Camila giggles as they reach the second floor, “I only have a towel on!” 

Ava winks at her. “And you look great. All that training’s paying off, Cammie.” She loves teasing Camila, so easily and delightfully scandalized, but always with a grin underneath that tells Ava she’s not as innocent as she seems.

Camila squeals and Ava laughs. Success.

She’s been missing Diego a lot lately. She knows she can’t go back to him, at least not until Adriel’s gone and the dust has settled enough to sort her story out, but she misses him desperately. They’d been roommates for years, and over time he became the little brother she’d never had. She could tease him, make snide comments about Sister Francis to help him feel less scared when she was having a particularly cruel day, or just to make him laugh. He is her family, and she loves him so dearly.

Camila fills that hole in her heart a little. At least, she warms the part of Ava’s heart that Diego once did. It’s nice. She laughs just as easily as Diego, too.

“Just come help me!” Camila says, still smiling. “I’m desperate. And smelly. I doubled my morning training today. To better prepare myself, y’know?” Her smile falters a little. Ava notices and quickly gets them back on track.

“Let’s do this, then!” Ava strolls over to the bathroom door and throws it open. “What’s the issue?”

Camila follows, pointing at the keypad on the wall. “I was trying to set the temperature, and now when I turn the water on...”

She presses a button and the jets blast on at full strength, bouncing off the walls and spraying Ava in the face.

“Omigod that’s so cold,” Ava sputters. She wipes the water out of her eyes dramatically, shaking her hair like a dog to try and get some on Camila as she turns it off, biting back laughter.

“Oops,” Camila says, not at all apologetic. Ava pretends to glare at her, but she knows she’s glowing with pride. Attagirl.

“Hmph. This is what I get for helping, huh?”

“Sorry, sorry. Please help!” Ava brushes off the last last drops of water off her face and switches her attention to the panel.

“Almost the exact same thing happened to me when I first started house-hopping,” Ava says. She pulls up the menu and searches for the right settings. “How hot do you want it?”

“What are the options?” Camila peers over.

“It’s one to ten,” Ava responds.

“Let’s try an eight.”

Ava sets the temperature and opens the jet menu. “What about jet strength?”

“Uh...,” Camila says, mildly confused. “What do you recommend? I’ve never used a shower like this.”

“Oh, really?” Ava laughs. “Never had the chance to use a robot shower in the nunnery?” She plugs in a low jet setting, figuring Camila wasn’t looking for the kind of shower that involves high-strength jets of water.

“No, not really. Just normal, non-robotic showers for me.”

“Well, you should be all set! Just press start when you’re ready.”

“How did you do that so quickly? I’m good with computers, and I’m hopeless with this,” Camila pouts just a little.

“JC had to teach me, when we first met,” Ava explains. “I accidentally soaked myself in ice cold water from all directions and screamed so loud he thought I was in trouble and ran into rescue me.”

“He seems... sweet,” Camila comments, her expression both impish and innocent at the same time. It reminds her so much of Diego it hurts, even though it includes Camilla’s signature knowing look.

“He was,” Ava says, hearing a touch of wistfulness in her own voice. She leans against the bathroom wall.

“He didn’t really understand,” she gestures around, “all of this. But he cared about me, and that was nice. Not a lot of people cared about me at that point. It meant a lot.”

“Was that before we met?” Camila says softly.

“The shower rescue? Yeah. It was one of the first days after I got the Halo. I’d just escaped the morgue, just got my legs back, and jumped into a pool. He pulled me out, because less than twenty-four hours before I did that, I was completely paralyzed and hadn’t exactly had the time to learn to swim.”

“How romantic,” Camila says, voice genuine enough for the average person not to notice anything off, but Ava knows better. She can hear the room Camila’s left for Ava to disagree, a slight suggestiveness under the innocuous comment.

“It was,” Ava responds. “It was very heroic.”

This had gotten a little more serious than Ava had expected when she volunteered to help Camila with the shower.

“Or maybe he was just hot,” she gives Camila her biggest smile and pushes herself off the wall. “Need anything else?”

Camila just looks at her thoughtfully. “Is that what you want?”

“Uh... what? Do I want a hot guy?”

Camilla shakes her head. “No, do you want a hero? Someone to jump in and rescue you?”

Her words catch Ava off-guard, but she considers the question, pretending she doesn’t notice the beat her heart skipped.

“No,” she says slowly. “Not so much these days. I mean, I hardly need rescuing anymore.”

Camila smiles gently at her weak attempt at a joke, but waits for her to finish.

“Really, though... I know you all have my back, and I can’t really imagine myself with a guy who swoops into save me anymore. For one, I don’t know any guys with a super-powered magic battery in their backs, and I also...,” she hesitates. “These days, I think I’d rather have someone who’d fight next to me. I’m done running away. Or being rescued, or whatever. You guys taught me to fight.”

At this, Camila’s face lights up with a huge smile. “I’d hug you if I weren’t only wearing a towel.” Ava laughs, and pulls Camilla into a hug anyways.

“What does that matter to sisters?”

When she pulls away, Camila’s face is still lit up like a Christmas tree. “Sisters in this life or next,” she confirms confidently.

“Always,” Ava promises. “I’ll let you shower now, though.”

She heads towards the door, and Camila walks behind her. Ava steps into the hallway, but before Camila shuts the door, she calls out.

“Ava?”

“Yeah?” She turns back.

“You deserve someone who will fight beside you.”

“Thanks, Cam,” Ava says, surprised. Surprised, but touched.

“I hope you find her.”

With that, Camila disappears behind the door and Ava hears the shower turn on. She smiles at the door. She misses Diego, but she has a family here, too. She knows that.

Wait—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter tomorrow!! (or maybe even tonight👀🌟)
> 
> tumblr @malloryeatsthekeys


	5. Risky Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice makes a dangerous promise.

“Language, Beatrice,” Mary says gleefully. 

Beatrice squeezes her eyes as tight as she can, part of her hoping that when she opened them, Lilith and Mary would be gone. The rest of her knew she was done for.

Slowly she takes her hands off her face, peaking out through her fingers. She tries and fails to avoid eye contact with either of her Sisters, immediately locking eyes with a devilishly smiling Lilith. (In the back of her head, she saves that awful pun for Ava later.)

“We’re not in church,” she says defensively. Mary and Lilith just look at her expectantly.

She sighs, and sits up to face the music.

“Sooooo...,” Mary croons. “What was that all about?”

“Anything you want to tell us?” Lilith smirks. “Something that makes perfect Sister Beatrice swear like a sailor?”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” Mary responds. Almost simultaneously, Lilith swiftly takes a seat next to Mary, staring Beatrice down, and Mary swivels herself around in the eighteen-thousand dollar chair she’s in (Lilith was a little off, but Beatrice knew what it cost; her parents had one) so she’s facing Beatrice dead on.

Beatrice shudders a little. Her Sisters’ ferocity was valuable in battle, and she’d certainly seen it in both their faces while sparring, but never has she been more scared of them than this exact moment.

“It’s nothing,” she tries, voice just a little too high. Mary rolls her eyes and Lilith raises a perfectly-groomed eyebrow.

She’s also never seen Lilith and Mary, usually so fiery and often at each other’s throats, this in-sync, which makes this situation infinitely more terrifying. She sighs.

“Fine. You have three questions,” she says decisively. This will be a negotiation, not an interrogation. She won’t let them get the upper hand. Maintain control, and she’ll get out of here alive. She lets her expression fall into her best poker face: calm, controlled, cold.

“Hm...,” Mary hums. “Lilith, what do you think? Do we agree to these terms?”

Lilith leans forward, eager. “Only if she promises to tell the truth.”

“Do I lie often, Lilith?”

“Swear on the Bible, then.”

It’s a clear challenge. Beatrice takes a deep, slow breath, trying to hide the flicker of nerves she feels.

“Fine by me.”

“Is there even a Bible in this house?” Mary asks. Beatrice had looked through the bookcases fairly extensively during their time there and hadn’t seen one. She prays she hadn’t missed one.

“There wasn’t. Camila bought one yesterday,” Lilith answers.She keeps her voice steady, but Beatrice sees the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Beatrice grimaces internally. She made a bad bet, and she’s about to pay for it.

“Where is it?”

“Her bedside table.”

“On it.” Mary quickly gets up and heads out of the room toward’s Camila’s temporary bedroom on the first floor. Silence hangs in the air, and Beatrice picks her book back up, pretending to read, carefully casual.

She can feel Lilith’s gaze burning into her like hellfire. (She should probably stop with the hell puns, but she can’t help herself anymore. Ava _is_ a bad influence.) She turns another page, purposefully ignoring her. Far too little time passes before Mary returns, Bible in hand.

“Hand out, Bea.”

She begrudgingly places her left hand on the Bible’s cover, and dutifully raises her right hand.

“What do you want me to swear to?”

“To tell the truth,” Lilith replies. “No matter what we ask.”

Beatrice fixes her with an annoyed look.

“Fine. I swear to tell the truth, no matter what you ask.”

“Gotta swear to God himself,” Mary insists. 

“I swear to God to tell the truth, no matter what you ask.”

“Perfect.” Lilith whisks the Bible away and immediately gets back to task.“So. First question—”

“Hold up. Shouldn’t we strategize?” Mary interjects. “I want to make the most of these three questions.”

Beatrice notices the impressed look that flashes across Lilith’s face. Not a good sign.

Her friends huddle together to confer. She waits patiently, enjoying the little time left before her demise. Lilith nods decisively and they return to their positions.

“Okay: first,” Lilith begins, “When did you know you were in love with Ava?”

“I thought these were supposed to be yes-or-no questions,” Beatrice exclaims. “That is not a yes-or-no question!”

“You never established that,” Lilith says. “And you already agreed to tell the truth.”

“So...,” Mary continues, “What’s the answer?”

Beatrice glares at them. “Dishonest intentions don’t deserve honest answers.”

“You swore to God, Sister,” Mary reminds her. Beatrice knows she’s right. She just hates it. She takes a deep breath and quickly composes herself.

“Fine, then. What was your question?”

Lilith rolls her eyes. “When... did you know... you were in love... with Ava?”

“I’ve never been in love and wouldn’t know if I were in love with someone,” Beatrice answers as calmly as possible, relieved when she hears her own voice stay steady.

“Oh, c’mon!” Mary leans back in her chair and gives Bea a look. She holds her hands up, pleading innocent.

“I promise, Mary, it’s the truth. I’ve never been in love before.” It is true, she thinks. She may have feelings for Ava, but she’d never been in love. Suspicions were not fact. Thus, no lies.

“What about the girl your parents found out about?”

Beatrice inhales sharply.

“Lilith! That wasn’t our second question! Good lord,” Mary smacks her arm. “No need to go there.”

Lilith has the decently to look sheepish, but Beatrice decides to barrel on ahead. She can answer this quickly, and then there’s just one last question.

“No. It counts,” she says. “To answer, Lilith, I was not in love with her. It wasn’t like that.”

She sees Mary catch onto that last piece of information, intrigued. She opens her mouth, but stops herself before she asks any follow up questions.

“Nope. Not falling for that,” Mary says, “We’ve got one more question, I’m not wasting it asking anymore questions about that chapter of your life. No matter how curious I am.”

Well, her trap failed. But just one more question, and she’s free.

“Ask your final question, then.”

“We need a moment.” With that, Mary leans back towards Lilith and whispers in her ear.

“That works,” Lilith confirms, and Mary nods.

“We’ll finish with the question we should have started with: do you have feelings for Ava?”

Her inhale this time isn’t sharp, it’s a shudder. Is revealing her feelings for Ava worth lying to her sisters, even by omission? Is lying by omission breaking her promise, to God, and to them?

She resigns herself to the truth, and lets herself feel the little bit of relief that comes when she answers.

“Yes, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s the next chapter!! managed to get it done today, too 🌟 i might even try to knock out a chapter of my other avatrice fic tonight, tbh
> 
> hopefully this gives u the good gay feels tonight 💕💖


	6. Kitchen Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I never even thought about any sort of family until all this. I didn’t let myself hope.” 
> 
> “What changed?” Lilith asks, gentler than usual. 
> 
> Ava looks her in the eye, smile on her face and heart on her sleeve. 
> 
> “I did.“

A week after rescuing Camila from the shower, Ava’s enlisted into the “Make Camila’s Special Dinner” squad by Lilith and Mary. Bea and Camilla had a planned outing that day to do some errands and scan for any nearby demons, and the second they’re out the door, Ava’s pulled into the upstairs kitchen, chopping vegetables under Lilith’s careful supervision.

“Wait, wasn’t Camila planning on making this? Isn’t that the whole point?”

“We’re doing it for her,” Lilith answers.

“It’s a surprise,” Mary adds. “She’s been stressed. Thought we’d take it off her plate.”

Ava shrugs and returns to chopping vegetables, very aware of Lilith monitoring her every move. Seriously, she’s fought demons with a magic glowing sword, and she’s still not trusted with a damn kitchen knife.

“Okay, I’m down to surprise Cammie. But why are we up here? We never use this kitchen. I barely know what half this shiny shit is.”

Their current haunt has three kitchens (that they’ve found): the downstairs kitchen, the kitchen on the second floor, and the one they’re using right now. The downstairs kitchen has been their go-to, since it’s the closest to the living/dining area and the one that most closely resembles a normal human kitchen. The kitchen on the second floor, despite also being an upstairs kitchen, is not the upstairs kitchen, but the Green Kitchen. Ever since they found it, there’s been a tacit agreement to keep that door sealed. Every inch of it was painted the exact same shade of lime green, down to the appliances and, as it seemed from their brief investigation, the flatware, cookware, dishes, and even the kitchen towels and napkins. They had no idea why or how it was made, but not one of them has stepped foot inside it since the day they discovered it.

Thus the third kitchen is the upstairs kitchen, although “rooftop kitchen” was probably a better descriptor. It was full of polished steel appliances that were either giant versions of the standard kitchen appliances or completely unknown to Ava, and leads out onto a rooftop Olympic pool and a huge patio.

She eyes the rumbling block of metal beside her chopping station. “I mean, what does any of this even do? And why do they have a kitchen that leads onto the roof?”

“It’s meant for catering staff. They likely entertain on the rooftop and have this kitchen ready for caterers, or perhaps an on-staff team,” Lilith answers

“They have a kitchen just for other people to use?” Ava wrinkles her nose. “Rich people are so weird.”

She returns to chopping, but sees Lilith and Mary have a silent argument in her peripheral vision.

“Everything okay?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees them both freeze for a second.

“We’re good. Lilith’s just shit at reading recipes,” Mary says.

Lilith glares at her. “I am not!”

“C’mon princess, there’s no way you stepped into a kitchen before you joined the Order.”

Ava’s eyes widen. Oh, no. She sees what she’s done.

“I’m sorry, Lilith, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“What?”

“I’m not trying to like, shit on all rich people or anything, it’s just so weird to me.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

She blinks at Mary in response. “Was that not the issue? I thought— since your family’s—”

“Did you think I was offended by you calling the owners of this house weird? You’re aware I’ve seen the Green Kitchen, correct?” Lilith says with her trademark combination of surprise and disdain.

“Well... I don’t know. Beatrice gets all weird about that stuff, I thought it might be a rich kid thing,” Ava says sheepishly. “I mean, she doesn’t get offended or anything, but it’s a touchy topic with her. I don’t know much about your past, Lilith, but it seems like Beatrice wasn’t such a big fan of that lifestyle. I thought it could be the same with you.”

Lilith’s disdain softens a little. “It’s fine, Ava,” Lilith hesitates a moment. “Beatrice... her family was different from mine. My family is wealthy, yes, but our history is entwined with that of the Church and of the OCS. I didn’t spend much time in kitchens,“ She shoots a look at Mary, “I spent my time training. You know her parents were diplomats, correct?”

Ava nods.

“Right. New money, new status. It’s a different set of rules.”

Mary snorts. “Her family’s been in politics for three generations. You only think they’re the nouveau riche because your weird-ass family goes back to the damn Middle Ages.”

“Whatever. Still a difference between growing up the daughter of British diplomats and growing up to be a Halo— to be a Sister Warrior.”

Ava feels an all-too-familiar twinge of guilt and pushes it down.

“I can see that. Less punching demons and more...”

“Curtsies?” Mary offers.

The image of Beatrice, habit-wearing, knife/staff/explosives-wielding force of nature, curtsying in front of the Queen pops into her head so fast Ava can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t imagine Beatrice in that setting,” she shakes her head. “She’s so badass, the idea of her curtsying just seems ridiculous. Do diplomats’ daughters even have to curtesy?”

Mary shrugs.

“No, they don’t,” Lilith answers, rolling her eyes. “Not unless they’re visiting royalty or another state official, and Beatrice went to boarding school. I doubt she had to meet too many dignitaries.”

“Yeah,” Ava says quietly. “I got the impression she wasn’t around her parents a lot. Or at least, not much good time.”

“They’re pretty conventional,” Mary agrees. “Beatrice isn’t.”

“She’s a nun... I think that’s pretty _convent_ ional!”

Ava laughs smugly as her friends groan. Mary pelts her with a piece of the carrot she’s cutting, but Ava dodges just in time.

“Can’t get the Warrior Nun! Too fast,” she gloats. A blob of something warm and soft nails her in the middle of the forehead and slides down her face.

“Don’t get cocky, Warrior Nun,” Lilith smirks. Ava makes a face back and scoops some of the food off her face to taste.

“Mm. Yum.”

“You’re gross,” Mary says, returning to the pot she’s stirring, “And I don’t think being a nun counts as conventional if you also have like three black belts and kill a man without a single weapon. Which Beatrice did even before she became a nun.”

“When did she become a nun, anyways?” Ava tries to come off as casual as possible, but she’s desperately curious. She hasn’t had a chance to dig deeper into Beatrice’s past since the Tomb, but that hasn’t stopped her from wondering. She’s spent more than one night up after everyone else, going over every inch of their conversations for some new insight.

“Eighteen, I think,” Mary tells her. “She was at Catholic school, got noticed by the Order. Took her vows pretty quick.”

“Really? Wow, that’s so young.”

“I think it was a good way out for her. Like you said, she didn’t particularly enjoy that life.”

“But why the Order? Why not just... leave?”

Ava sees Mary’s stirring slow until she reaches a stop, resting the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot.

“Ava, we’ve both lost family. I know it’s different, but... if you got your family back, would you let them go? Even if they were awful, could you cut that off completely?”

She’s never thought of that. The loss of her family is so long ago, so many bad, weird, good events ago, that she’d stopped letting herself think that way. Ava was never one to dwell on the past, and after years as a quadriplegic orphan taking verbal abuse from sharp-tongued nuns, she’d learned to push down any hopes or daydreams for anything more. No hoping to be adopted, no hoping to walk again, no hoping for more than she had. It was too dangerous. She hadn’t hoped for a family in a long, long time.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe. If they were bad enough. I’ve never really thought about that, I guess.”

Mary nods a little but continues stirring without a word. The silence is heavy, but Ava suddenly feels the urge to break it.

“I didn’t let myself think like that,” she blurts. “It just— it wasn’t worth it to hope, in the orphanage. Paralyzed kids aren’t exactly at the top of any adoption lists, and I didn’t know that demon-slash-angel halos with magic powers were an option, so I never thought walking again was possible. I definitely never let myself think about a family. I mean, I had a friend who was like a little brother, but that was it. And we were both stuck there. I didn’t really let myself start to hope for anything until after I died, and family...,” she trails off. She takes a deep breath and makes her final confession.

“I never even _thought_ about any sort of family until all this. I didn’t let myself hope.”

“What changed?” Lilith asks, gentler than usual.

Ava looks her in the eye, smile on her face and heart on her sleeve.

“I did. When we were training to phase into the tomb, Beatrice had me focus on my fears to tap into the Halo’s power. When I thought about being alone again... it made me realize how important having you all around had become. She told me about how important the OCS has been for her, how she found a family here. I realized I had found one too, and I started hoping for something more.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Ava sees Lilith and Mary share a meaningful look. She tries to brush the whole thing off and picks her chopping knife back up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get, like, super heavy, or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” Lilith takes a small step towards her and offers a small smile.

“We’ve all found family here. It means different things to each of us, but we know we belong here,” Mary says. “We’re sisters. We’ve just never heard you say it like that.”

“It’s nice to hear you say it. Before the Tomb, we were all a little... uncertain,” Lilith says carefully, and Ava’s heart drops. “But after, we knew where you stood.”

“Knew you were one of us,” Mary adds. Ava’s flooded with relief, but she doesn’t interrupt her friend. _Her sister._ “But Lilith’s right, it’s good to hear you say it aloud. And it’s good to understand where you’re coming from.”

“You’re not the selfish, rash, impulsive brat we thought you were.”

Ava can’t help but laugh. “Wow, thanks, Lilith. You make me sound like a six year old having temper tantrums.”

Lilith doesn’t contradict her, so she keeps going.

“I hope you know— all of you, Bea and Cammie too— that I’m in this for real. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave again.”

“If you did, we’d hunt you down.”

“Or Adriel would,” Lilith points out.

“Yeah, it’s not like you really have a choice anymore, girl.”

Ava smiles. “The mind-reading, demon-controlling freak tracking me down does limit my options, true. But I think even if he weren’t here... or after we defeat him, I think I’d still stay. I’d like to, anyways.”

“Oh, we know. You’re like a damn puppy, with the dopey look and brown eyes. Can’t kick a puppy out onto the streets.”

“Plus, I don’t think we could pull you away from Beatrice if we tried,” Lilith says slyly. “Talk about a puppy dog.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ava protests. “I’m not around her a weird amount. We’re trapped in this house almost 24/7, it’s kind of hard to avoid each other.”

“Are you trying to avoid Beatrice?” Mary asks.

“No, of course not! I’m just not following her around like a ‘damn puppy dog’!”

“Maybe not, but you spend an awful lot of time together,” Mary says. Ava catches the look of disbelief on her face.

“What’s that look supposed to mean!”

“Nothing! Calm down,” Mary says with a self-righteous smirk. “No one’s accusing anyone of anything. You just seem close. It’s not a bad thing,”

Ava relaxes a little. “Yeah, we are. She got me through the wall, after all. We spent a lot of hours together literally staring at a wall.”

As they all settle back into their stations, Ava thinks over their conversation. Beatrice was important to her. She’d been the first to really welcome Ava to the family, to tell her straight up that she belonged. She made sure Ava knew she wasn’t alone. She made her feel less alone. Ava looks around the kitchen, taking in the scene around her; three opponents-turned-sisters cooking harmoniously, in spite of their track record, to do something kind for someone they all loved. Warmth fills her chest and sneaks onto her face until she’s beaming in the oversized kitchen filled with pristine metal equipment. It’s not a normal scene by any means, and it’s barely an approximation of a typical family cooking together. But Ava knows she’s not alone.

“You know, Beatrice didn’t let herself hope much, either.”

“What?” Ava’s mind immediately focuses on Mary’s words, leaving her contemplative moment behind.

“She was always very duty-oriented. She excelled at everything, of course, but she never stepped out of bounds.”

“A goody-two-shoes, huh? Shocking,” Ava jokes.

“It wasn’t just that,” Lilith interjects. “Beatrice lives for the greater good. Her faith is strong, and she does what she believes she’s supposed to for the greater good. She’ll take a stand when there’s a disagreement on what that means, but her purpose is always bigger than herself.”

Ava nods. “She’s selfless.”

“Yeah. But that means she doesn’t even think about what she wants. She’s never been like that,” Mary responds.

“Until lately.” Lilith’s looking straight at her. A heat creeps up Ava’s neck and she suddenly feels like her head is spinning a little bit.

“What changed?” She ventures.

“She did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2.3k chapter to apologize for the delay in posting!!! 
> 
> been a little under-the-weather and needed a ~creative break~ and some time to work on other projects (including a high school/boarding school/catholic school ava/bea AU if you’re into it)
> 
> i hope you’re all doing well and that this adds something nice to your wednesday! enjoy 🌟
> 
> tumblr @malloryeatsthekeys


	7. Rooftop Ramblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearing just the slightest of vulnerability in Beatrice’s voice is enough to send shockwaves through Ava.  
> “I will, Bea.”

Camila’s smile is often ear to ear, but when she tastes the fruit of their labor that night, it’s the biggest Ava’s ever seen, and more than makes up for the harassment her kitchen overlords had given her. 

  
“Oh my gosh, this was perfect you guys! How did you get my recipes?” 

“I think you underestimate the number of times you’ve talked about your mother’s recipes, Camila,” Lilith responds. “It’s not hard to memorize them.” 

Camila’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“No,” Mary says. “I took your recipe book from your room.” 

“Oh. That makes more sense.” 

“We couldn’t figure out that dessert, though. The pastry?”

“Oh! I can make it! It will only take a couple hours and some steady hands!” 

“Well, that rules me out,” Ava says, leaning back in her chair. “Sorry Cam.” 

“That’s okay! Anyone else?” She turns to face the three other nuns, sitting next to each other at the rooftop dining table they decided to eat on. 

Ava catches Mary and Lilith sharing another one of their mysterious looks and instinctively glances at Beatrice, silently asking if she knows what’s happening. Beatrice meets her gaze and gives her the tiniest of shrugs before looking back to Camila. 

“I can help,” she offers. “I’ve never made pastries, but I’m good with my hands.” 

Ava gets the impression that Mary’s mini coughing fit is a disguise for her laughter. 

“Mary and I will help, Camila. We learnt the hard way that Ava is hopeless in the kitchen, and I’ve seen Beatrice cook. You’re better off without her help.” 

In the moonlight, even with an indignant look of betrayal on her face, Beatrice looks elegant, Ava thinks. Instead of sitting with that thought, she leaps out of her chair dramatically. 

“I beg to differ. I helped cook this delicious meal. I’ll help, Cammie, and prove myself,” she declares.

Mary stands, places a hand on Ava’s shoulder, and firmly pushes her back into her seat. “Nope, you stay here. C’mon, Lilith. Let’s go, before these two wreak havoc on our dessert.” 

With a smirk, Lilith grabs the stack of emptied plates in the center of the table and follows Mary back towards the kitchen. 

“Camila! Are you coming?” She calls over her shoulder. 

“Oh!” Camila jumps out of her seat. “Coming! Sorry!” She scrambles out of her chair and after the other two, leaving Beatrice and Ava alone at the table.

“Have they been acting weird lately or is it just me?” Ava asks. 

“Who?” 

“Lilith and Mary. They exchange so many... knowing glances lately.” A thought pops into her head and she leans in. “Do you think they’re... y’know...?”   
Beatrice shudders. “That would never happen, especially not so soon after Shannon’s death.” 

“Okay, fair enough. But I still think they’re up to no good.” 

“When they manage to cooperate, they can certainly be a force to be reckoned with.”

Ava’s pretty sure Beatrice learned that from experience. 

“Oof. Maybe I won’t try and find out, then. I was planning on doing some recon and trying to figure out what was up. What’d’ya think?” 

“Oh, I would avoid that. Definitely not.” 

“That bad?” 

“Yes,” Beatrice confirms. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Ava leans back in her chair. “Eh, it’s a lot of work anyways. But they’re definitely getting along these days.” 

“Probably for the best,” Beatrice reminds her. “We need to be a team now more than ever.” 

“I know,” Ava says, growing more serious. “I was actually talking about that with them while we were cooking.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.” Ava pushes back her chair and stands up. She stretches her arms out into the cool dusk air, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach and a warm summer evening. “Let’s go admire the view. I mean, what’s the point of a roof like this if you’re not staring at the ocean?”

“Well, if you’re speaking strategically, there are some advantages, but I don’t think you are,” Beatrice teases her, but she still gets up. 

“I am not! I’m thinking purely hedonistically, like the sinner I am.” 

“We’re all sinners.” 

“Then I’m in good company,” Ava says, flashing Beatrice a grin. She starts walking to the edge of the roof and hears Beatrice a few steps behind her. 

The view from the rooftop was extraordinary. In her brief life post-orphanage, she’d been fortunate (if you could call it that) enough to experience some of the most beautiful views she could imagine from houses just like this. But they never disappointed. This one was simple, a clear view of the ocean with its rippling waves glittering with the reflections of the moon and stars. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks Beatrice, who’s standing next to her, leaning against the railing. 

“It is.”

“I can’t believe it’s real sometimes,” she says. Her mind wanders to her kitchen conversation with Lilith and Mary. If she had let herself think about what she wanted, would it be this? Would she want to be here, standing in front of—

“The ocean?” Beatrice asks, bringing Ava back to reality.

“The ocean, and the view. All of this, really. Even though we’re running from a demon hellbent—“ Beatrice snorts. “—on ripping a divide battery pack from my back, we’re living in luxury. We spend our time in beautiful houses, taking in beautiful views, cooking in beautiful kitchens.” 

“Not the—“ 

“Definitely not the Green Kitchen. But you know what I mean.” 

“I do.” And then Ava’s mind wanders to the end of her conversation with Lilith and Mary, to Beatrice. Selfless, duty-bound, beautiful, badass Beatrice. Who wouldn’t let herself think about what she wanted, just like Ava. Even if they had different reasons, maybe they were more alike than Ava thought. 

“Is there something on your mind, Ava?” Beatrice asks in that way she does, cutting exactingly through the excess with the most gentle hand.

“I’m just thinking about some stuff Mary and Lilith and I were talking about earlier, sorry.”

“Are you okay? You looked pretty deep in thought.” 

“And that’s a sign I’m not okay? You think so little of me that my thinking is a warning sign?” 

Beatrice laughs, but protests. “That’s not what I said, but it’s true you tend to think most deeply about your most severe problems.” 

“It’s not like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m happy to listen.”

Ava hesitates. “Are you sure?” Is she sure?

Beatrice nods. “Of course, Ava.” She isn’t. But she wasn’t going to start running away after she worked so hard to stop. 

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, imploring her heart to stop racing and her lungs to start working. 

“There’s a lot of stuff I’ve done in the last few months that I never thought I could do,” Ava starts. “And I don’t mean the super powers and demon fighting, or even just being able to walk. Those things... it’s like, I thought I’d never be able to walk or run because it wasn’t physically possible. But there’s so many things I thought I’d never be able to do just because I would never be able to do it. There are so many people like me who have done so much, but I never thought I could do any of it.” 

“People like you?” 

“Quadriplegic. I mean, there are so many people who can’t walk and still have lives. Real lives, with careers, hobbies, friends. Relationships. Families. But I never thought I could have that too, even if I could walk one day. Even after I woke up...,” she shakes her head. “I still didn’t think I could ever have that. A real future. I thought I was broken beyond repair. Inside and out.” 

Beatrice opens her mouth slightly to protest, but Ava pushes on. 

“But I’ve done so much more than I ever dreamed I could do. I’ve fought demons, walked through walls, levitated. I made friends.”   
Beatrice smiles softly. 

“I was so afraid. I kept running away. But you, all of you, pushed me to actually confront it, and face it. And now I can’t stop thinking about the future, about everything I can do after Adriel’s gone. 

“I know Jillian hasn’t figured out how destroying the Halo would effect me yet, but even if I can’t walk—”

“You’ll have us,” Beatrice fills in.

“I’ll have you. Something worth fighting for.” 

They’re still for a moment, dwarfed by the rolling hills around them and starry sky above them. Ava feels as if she could dissolve into the universe, tethered to the earth only by Beatrice at her side. Trees rustle in the distance, and Beatrice breaks their tenuous quiet. 

“Why are you telling me this?” She asks softly. 

Ava keeps her gaze on the night sky. “I’m starting to think about what I want. What I’m willing to face my fears for. What I’m willing to fight for. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but...,” she hesitates, taking a deep breath before resuming. “But I hope you’re thinking about what you want, too.” 

Ava knows that’s not what Beatrice expected her to say. She doesn’t know how she expected her to respond, either. Beatrice is quiet again, face caught in an expression Ava couldn’t quite place, some mixture of surprise and anxiety, blurred by Beatrice’s usual facade. That’s okay, though, she thinks. Maybe now isn’t the time for this conversation. 

“I should go,” she says softly. “It’s getting late, and Lilith said she’s still making me train tomorrow morning.” 

Beatrice still doesn’t respond, so Ava tries again. 

“The bitch.” 

“Ava!” She’s rewarded immediately by Beatrice’s shocked reprimand. 

“Sorry,” she laughs. “I knew that would snap you out of it.” 

Beatrice sighs. “No, I’m sorry. You... caught me off guard,” she says carefully. “I appreciate your honesty, and that you opened up to me like you did. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. And you’ve certainly given me... something to think about.” 

“No problem,” Ava says breezily. “Let me know what you come up with.” 

“I will.” 

They stay in silence a moment more, two unassumingly deadly young women facing each other below a star-strung sky. 

  
Ava’s about to step away, leave before she pushes things too far and messes everything up. But Beatrice steps towards her too, gently taking Ava’s hand in hers, holding her there a minute longer. 

  
“Be patient with me,” she whispers, “Please.” 

  
Hearing just the slightest of vulnerability in Beatrice’s voice is enough to send shockwaves through Ava. 

  
“I will, Bea.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see my friends! thank you all for your lovely comments on the last chapter— i’m well and recovered from the car accident and things are doing better 😊
> 
> i hope you all in the US are safe and healthy during the post-election aftermath and covid spike, and that everyone from around the globe is healthy and surviving quarantine well! remember to be gentle with yourselves and that progress is progress— we’re experiencing mass trauma and you should celebrate ALL victories!! (i tell myself after take several weeks to write 1.7k words, haha. but hey! they’re here!) 
> 
> sending love and good vibes! i’ll delete the last chapter in 1 week~
> 
> tumblr @malloryeatsthekeys


	8. I Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will, Bea. 
> 
> I will be.
> 
> I will, Bea. 
> 
> These words had been echoing in her head for days, no matter how many times she made Lilith spar with her, no matter how many books she buried herself in, no matter how many demons she hunted, no matter how many prayers she offered. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though God had left her questions unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. catholic nuns take two set of vows. only one is permanent. 
> 
> *to the extent any vow is permanent ofc, not like the pope can force ppl to do whatever he wants lol

I will, Bea.

I will be.

I will, Bea.

I will be.

I will, Bea.

These words had been echoing in her head for days, no matter how many times she made Lilith spar with her, no matter how many books she buried herself in, no matter how many demons she hunted, no matter how many prayers she offered. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though God had left her questions unanswered.

Did it matter? Did a single comma matter? Regardless of the punctuation, she was still facing the same choices. The same questions.

But it matters to her. Oh God, it matters to her. Out of the many questions swirling around in her head— did she break her vows? Does she want to? Did Shannon?— this is the one haunting her. Maybe because if she focused on the sentence itself, she could ignore its meaning. Ignore the promise Ava had made to her. And ignore the silent promise she had made in return: Ava would be patient, and Beatrice would think.

 _I will be._ A promise to be patient. _I will, Bea._ A promise to _her_ , laden with gentle familiarity and soft affection.

The temptation to ignore her gnawing suspicions that Ava did indeed make an affectionate promise to her is great, almost overwhelming. She has fallen to such temptation before.

But is it worth it, this time? Is it worth it to walk away?

She could. She’s taken vows, the ostentatiously faithful choice would be to continue them. But next to the place in her heart she’s dedicated to her hidden theory is a growing conviction that to ignore this fork in her road would be the easy way out; that to entomb her feelings in layers of faith would be dishonest to her and to God; that perhaps she owes proper consideration of the choices ahead of her to not only herself.

Perhaps the faithful thing to do is not taking her final vows, as she expected. Perhaps her faith requires her bravery in this moment. If Ava could learn to stay, maybe Beatrice could learn to go. 

Beatrice feels her heart flutter at the thought. A life without her vows. She can barely let herself imagine what a future without them would be— an ex-sister, a former bride of Christ. Free to become someone else’s. To have her own.

She’s never dreamt of a wedding. Her mother did that for her, a picturesque wedding in a staggeringly beautiful cathedral, Beatrice in a white dress and veil, her father giving her hand to a suited groom before they knelt down before a priest. And even though many of her sisters eagerly chose white gowns for their solemn vows, she had never wanted anything in particular. She had taken a vow of poverty; to dream of a gown of all things to commit to her vows in felt disingenuous. But now her mind wanders to a different dress; a simple gown of fitted white satin that falls in clean lines to the floor, a short veil fixed in her hair, next to another woman in white, gazing from a hilltop over the ocean.

 _Not in a church,_ she realizes. Panic floods her heart. _Not in a church._

Her vows would be taken in a church, with other sisters surrounding her. She would kneel, take her vows, and leave a nun, forever.

_Not in a church. With another woman, not in a church. With another bride, not in a church._

She falls to her knees, barely feeling the pain of crashing onto her temporary bedroom’s hardwood floor. Her hand flies from her forehead to her heart and across her chest, motions she’s done countless times before. But she has no specific prayer this time, nothing to offer other than _I will, Bea_ and _Not in a church_ and her deepest fears. She bows her head and prays.

Nothing comes, but the panic that seized her subsides slowly, the safety of prayer easing her worries. She lets herself slip into the comfort of God’s presence, praying with her aimless desperation for some sort of answer, some sort of sign. And nothing comes. But slowly, the seemingly all-important questions tormenting her begin to melt away. She feels the tension drain from her body, the ever-present ache in her muscles fade, the pain from her tender bruises disappear, and her mind is so much quieter.

In the quiet, a warmth swells in her chest. It fills the empty spaces of her silence, stretching from her heart into every inch of her being. Suddenly she’s no longer praying, but God hasn’t left. She still feels Him beside her, but the warmth isn’t his. It’s hers.

It takes a while before she opens her eyes, repeats the Sign of the Cross, and stands. 

Her loyalty is to God, before all else. But his love is hers, and it is unwavering. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you believe me if i told you i’m not catholic? just a lesbian nun’s heathen niece
> 
> happy new year, babes. two more chapters. returning to the way this fic started.
> 
> perhaps an epilogue 
> 
> see you soon?
> 
> malloryeatsthekeys.tumblr.com (except it’s fanart that has nothing to do with warrior nun, lol)


	9. Love Letters

_Dearest Ava,_

_There have been far too many surprises in recent memory for my liking. I’ve lost loved ones, both to the next life and to the choices they’ve made in this one. I’ve been forced from the only true home I’ve ever known, asked to leave my sisters behind. I was made to choose between obeying the directive I received from the Church and abandoning my sisters and our shared purpose. I chose to ally myself with Jillian and her company over the Church itself. I purposefully blew up the Vatican on one of its most Holy days._

_I prepared for the losses. I prepared for the difficult decisions. I prepared for the dangerous missions. I did not think to prepare for you._

_Of course, no one prepared for you, a non-believer risen from the dead as the Warrior Nun. Yet that isn’t what surprised me about you._

_We agreed you were too brash, too reckless, too selfish to be the leader the OCS needed. As I’m sure Lilith informed you at the time, many believed you would never be fit for the role, and as we discovered at Adriel’s Tomb, Father Vincent hoped to keep you as the Halo Bearer for his own purposes. Some small number were optimistic._

_I was curious. Next to past Warrior Nuns, you seemed too loud, too scared, too unwilling to take matters seriously. You seemed to bring chaos with you, crashing through life with abandon. By all means, I should have found you overwhelming. Irritating, at the very least. I did not. Instead, I found myself drawn to you, watching you, trying to understand you. Thankfully, I have always been a quick study, and I believe I became an expert in Ava Silva rather quickly._

_You make jokes to break tension, or buy yourself time when you need it. Your refusal to take things seriously keeps people at a safe distance. Your careless attitude disguises your resilience and intelligence. You are selfish, but out of fear, and your fears are earned. You have been failed by too many people, and I promise I will not be one of them._

_I believe you are more scared than you are reckless, more loyal than you are selfish, and more capable than anyone gives you credit for. You are kinder, smarter, and braver than you or anyone else believes. Fortunately for me, you are also so very patient._

_My final vows were planned for early next year, ever since I took my first vows at eighteen. But I am not the person I was at eighteen, kicked out of a house I was never welcome in and running from my own heart. You have reminded me what bravery is: not the willingness to die, but the choice to live in spite of your fears. I refuse to stay an eighteen year old girl running away just because I’m scared of the person I’ve become. I am someone who will fight for her beliefs, who would die for her sisters, and someone who is unmistakably, irrevocably in love with you._

_If I were to take my final vows, I would be betraying who I am, a person I know is loved as she is by God. I don’t want to do that. I want to be my own for the first time. I want to be yours, if you’d have me. I want a new future, with you and our friends after this war is over, whatever it looks like._

_I also want you to swear never to show this to Lilith or Mary, no matter what. You’ll have to trust me when I say it is very much in both of our best interests._

_Bea_


End file.
